


The Pantry

by TheLiveshipParagon



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibalism, Dark, Doctor/Patient, Dominance, F/M, Grooming, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, Manipulation, Marking, Rough Sex, Secrets, Serial Killers, Smut, Therapy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 16:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16684876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLiveshipParagon/pseuds/TheLiveshipParagon
Summary: Hannibal always tells you to never go in the pantry but your curiosity gets the better of you.





	The Pantry

**Author's Note:**

> Just writing a little something to tide me over til some artwork gets done. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warnings: Violence, Dark themes, Smut
> 
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Proof reading errors probably)

That pantry was the object of your fixation.

Ever since you’d known Hannibal, he’d told you there was nothing special there, only herbs and spices and some things you couldn’t even pronounce the name of they were so fancy. You got the feeling he was lying though. There was just something about the insistence that was off.

You’d known Hannibal long enough, being a former patient of his, that you’d managed to learn some basics about human behaviour and psychology and you could clearly see when he was rattled, even though that severe exterior gave nothing away to the outside world.

He was upstairs, changing into a dinner suit for the function you were both attending, a charity function. You were the poster child of reform and the key speaker, although the idea of speaking in front of a large audience terrified you.

You in your deep red gown, reminiscent of old Hollywood was of course paid for by Hannibal but he admired that you’d picked it yourself. You thought he might have been proud that he’d moulded you in his cultivated image.

You knew that is what he was doing. There’d been subtle grooming hints for months where he’d nudge you in the right direction with food choices, outfit choices, vocabulary and music tastes. The perfect little reformee, the perfect little sophisticate he could dangle off his arms at parties, the opera, Michelin star restaurants.

But now you were risking all of that just for one quick look in that pantry.

Your hand hesitated on the handle, not even knowing if it was locked or not before you pushed down and found to your surprise it was not.

Well if Hannibal didn’t want you looking, he should’ve prevented you better.

What you found in there…..yes you found spices and herbs and fresh vegetables and dry foods but there was also meat carcasses hanging from hooks and you swallowed a silent scream to see something else hanging there.

A body.

An actual human body with pieces missing.

What should you do? Should you call the police? Should you confront him? Did he even know?

Stupid question, of course he knew. Nothing escapes Hannibal’s attention.

Had you been…..had he been serving you human flesh? There were times when he never told you what the meat was, just made up fancy sounding words and you accepted it because you didn’t know otherwise.

You felt sick.

“You know, it’s very rude to do something when someone’s asked you not to,” comes the cold voice from behind you and you whirl around to see Hannibal there, only in his dress trousers and shirt.

He must’ve known you were in here and came immediately.

“Is that…is that real?” you ask, almost breathlessly.

“Don’t insult your own intelligence,” he tuts. “I have suspected for some time that you knew something was going on. Perhaps not the exact nature.”

“And you’re eating….people?”

“I have refined tastes,” he answers, the expression emotionless but you could see the coiled tension in his body, the rage ready to spill forth. “You have complimented me on my cooking of this gentleman a few times now. I would say your tastes were the same. I remember you enjoyed the thigh fillets most of all.”

He surveyed you for a reaction and was met with something he expected because there was that small calculating smirk before he lunged at you, grabbing you by the hair and slamming you against the wall, a fish knife tucked underneath your jaw.

“Why did you do this to me?” he sighs, admonishing like he would a child. “This was a big night for  _both_  of us. Why couldn’t you contain your curiosity for one more night?”

“And then I would be disposable, right?” you try to stop your heart beating wildly, looking around you for weapons or a way out.

“Naturally,” he nods. “It is very easy for patients’ absences to be explained away. You would not be missed.”

“Ouch, well that hurt,” you say sarcastically.

Honestly, if this was it, why even bother with begging and tears? Hannibal was not a man to be moved by either. Total dominion was what he wanted but debasing yourself that far would disgust him.

Die with honour.

“What  _am_ I to do with you?” he muses out loud, studying your face before chuckling to himself. “Oh, how interesting.”

“What?” you say, puzzled.

“You know, my dear, normally in these types of situations there would be crying and screaming. I’ve experienced it a few times. Perhaps some revulsion at the revelation you’ve consumed a person also. I mean, you are mere inches away from a corpse…. I see nothing of that in your demeanour. What I see is defiance, what I see is….ah yes, lust. Perhaps our sessions did not  _entirely_ work after all.”

You blush horribly, the memory of being on his chair all those months ago spilling your inner most soul. You’d come to him originally for always craving dangerous situations, the adrenalin rush where you put yourself in harm’s way…..that coupled with an unhealthy sexual desire in said risky situations. It was a compulsion that made you feel dirty, broken as a human being but Hannnibal had rationalised it for you.

He’d rationalised it as a need for a stronger partner, one who could say no to you, one who wouldn’t just be at your every whim, you needed someone you believed could physically overpower you but that wouldn’t be abusive with it.

It was a delicate line to walk but you had made some progress and no longer said the most provocative thing you could, walked down the most dangerous alleys you could find.

“Perhaps they didn’t,” you admit. “Because here I am putting myself in a situation that will get me killed. What’s your advice, Doctor Lecter?”

“Apologise immediately,” he says, the tone of his voice acidic. “You’ve been an impolite house guest.”

He seems very serious so you acquiesce, stating you’re sorry and that seems to placate something in him because you see his shoulders relax and you note the knife has receded from your throat a little.

“Now, my dear. I’m in quite the conundrum. If I kill you, I lose the opportunity to be a chair on the board of the psychiatrist’s council. If I let you live, I risk you speaking to law enforcement about my…proclivities. What would you do in my situation? Humour me.”

“I’d kill me,” you answer truthfully. “The risk is greater than the reward.”

He genuinely smiles, the hand that was wound in your hair, now stroking it back, “Not an answer I was expecting. I was expecting you to reason for your life. Perhaps I have underestimated your mind because there is some capacity there to think like me. Tell me, if I were to let you live, would you reveal my secret?”

There’s a point where you realise he’s now pressed up against you when you feel him push his legs between yours, his full body length now in proximity. It means you have to crane your neck up to look at him, his height overpowering you completely.

“Come now, don’t keep me waiting,” he wags a finger.

“No and I would be idiotic to do so,” you manage to get out, your breath suddenly coming in spurts. “I know you would kill me without hesitation if I did.”

“Correct,” he affirms. “And I rather think….you  _like_ that idea. Perhaps, my dear, what you really needed for your rehabilitation all along was…. _me_.”

Surely he could see it in your face, the way your chest was heaving, the tiny lip bite you’re sure you just did then. Hannibal’s presence was all consuming and you’d never been this close before. You knew now what he was, what he had done and yet you weren’t running. There was a very real possibility he could slit your throat right now and you weren’t running. In fact, you were slightly pressing back against him.

“Someone to tell you no,” his hand glides down to your waist. “Someone to guide your path. Someone to represent safe danger. Someone to…physically dominate you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” comes the tiny reply.

“You value this so much, you’re reacting sexually to me with a body right next to you, you’re reacting this way knowing I could end your life very easily.”

“Yes.”

“You may have value yet,” he smirks. “And you  _are_  beautiful….I do not see this as a hardship, merely….a helpful partnership. Are you agreeable?”

They said the devil would be tempting, that’s how the saying went right?

“I’m amenable to those terms,” you nod.

“Excellent,” he smiles, his head lowered so your noses were touching slightly. “Normally a handshake would suffice but I believe our situation is a little….different. Let us retire upstairs, let’s not be unsanitary after all. It would spoil the produce.”

With that, he leads you out of the pantry, locking the door behind you and you can almost pretend like you never saw anything as you gaze out onto the pristine kitchen. The two sides to Hannibal were clear to you now.

He leads you to the bedroom, knife still clutched in one hand as he deftly unzips your dress letting it pool around your feet and you see the expression of appreciation at your undergarments, picked from a French boutique.

“You know, you really have become quite the desirable young lady,” he muses, all pretence of sophistication gone as he pushes you back against the wall, causing you to gasp. “I do exquisite work.”

“You’ve moulded me well, Doctor Lecter,” you say knowingly and there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“You noticed. Very good. Do you regret your choice to allow me to do so?”

“Not at all,” you shake your head.

“Good. Now….” he traces the knife under your jawline again. “Hold still. I wish to know your vintage.”

With a quick flick of his wrist, you feel the skin part just where the jaw meets the neck, further back around your throat and the tiniest trickle of blood. Immediately his tongue greets its path, lapping a soft line before he mumbles something.

“What a fascinating taste. Desire and fine dining, almost sweet.”

You don’t expect him to start kissing harshly there and you buck up against him out of shock and lust. The dark rumble of a laugh just makes everything ache between your legs. You needed him. This is what you needed all along.

A dangerous man who was a gentleman.

The brassiere fell to the floor quickly enough as he explored your body, mapping every inch, perhaps mapping the best and most succulent parts of you. You didn’t know but the thought was strangely exciting.

Then he picked you up like you weighed nothing before throwing you onto the bed and crawling up your form like a calculated predator, discarding the knife on the nightstand.

“I am not a man of base desires, you understand,” he tells you as he strips himself out of his clothing. “But there is something about you that thrills me, that draws this urge to the fore.”

“You wanted to be understood,” you give him a taste of his own medicine. “You want to have power over that person but know they would be your equal.”

“My my, someone  _has_  been listening,” he chuckles before taking your last vestige of clothing off, roughly pulling apart your legs. “Are you contending for my job, my dear?”

“Not in the slightest,” you shake your head. “Doctor Lecter-”

“Hannibal,” he corrects you. “It will be the only name on your lips in this moment.”

The kiss he gives you is soft but the power game is very firmly in his control. In fact when you close your eyes, revelling in the sensation as he lines himself up with your entrance, you feel the press of his hand around your throat.

“No, you will look at me,” he warns you. “You will look at me as you become mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Hannibal,” you gasp, squirming under his body.

As he pushes himself deep inside you, he continues talking, “This is a contract I make with you. You will be under my rule, you will tell no one what you saw, punishment for misdeeds will be severe, punishment for revealing my secret will be your life and I do not do love but I  _do_  do fondness.”

You know he’s expecting you to say something, his hips stilled as his sheer length is twitching slightly within you.

“This is a contract I make with you. I will tell no one what I saw. I will not misbehave and if I do I will accept my punishment. I will be your trophy patient wherever you want me to be. I will never stop you from your proclivities. I cannot promise I will never love.”

“Such is your prerogative to do so,” he nods graciously. “I absolve you from further consumption of persons.”

“Well….” you tail off, looking into his interested expression. “I  _did_ enjoy those fillets.”

There’s this feral growl that starts deep in his throat before he starts ramming into you with a strength you didn’t know he had. Hannibal may be an older man but his stamina was incredible and his sheer power was overwhelming. All the quiet rage he had in the pantry was now unleashed upon you as he brutally took you, made you his.

He took care to only mark you in places that would be covered but you were marked nonetheless. Small bites, harsh fingertips, the rake of nails. He was leaving his signature.

Every brash rut sent you further towards that edge as he manipulated your body whatever way he liked, grabbing roughly at your hair, your throat, your thighs. Everything was meant to be a reminder of how easy it would be hurt you and that just made you even more aroused.

“Look. At. Me,” he commands and you comply instantly, even when he slams so forcefully into you that your orgasm follows, the band of pressure snapping. You never look away.

“Wonderful,” he praises before spilling into you, nothing more than a coarse grunt escaping his lips.

You expect him to move off straight away, to create distance. You knew this was purely for your benefit and not his. He doesn’t though. He stays there, before drawing you into, what you would describe as, an uncharacteristically languid kiss.

“Forgive me,” he straightens a little. “I did not expect you to be so understanding and to….want to participate further in what lies in the pantry. I must confess the thought was…thrilling.”

“Teach me to cook, Hannibal,” you say seriously.

“Oh my dear,” he grins widely, almost in a sinister way. “I wish you had stumbled across that pantry earlier. This hidden side of you is intoxicating.”

“You said it yourself. I enjoy danger and thrills,” you counter. “Maybe you’ve only just scratched the surface.”

There’s this real flicker of intensity to his gaze, “Perhaps I have. Come now, we will be late if we dally much longer. Cannot have my keynote speaker look anything other than the perfect model of society.”

He moves off, allowing you to redress and reapply your make up whilst he sees to his own garments.

“I think I may enjoy this partnership after all,” Hannibal chuckles to himself as he expertly does his bow tie before coming to you and affixing a necklace that he’d picked out for you. “A woman in my own image.”

“May I ask a question?” you say innocently, dabbing concealer on the tiny cut under your jaw.

“You may.”

“Do women taste different?”

The hands that snake around your waist tell you you may have just excited him again from the way they wander.

“Such an inquisitive mind,” he murmurs against your neck. “Perhaps I may retract my statement earlier about love.”

You knew it was another manipulation but you didn’t care at this point. Hannibal had you firmly under his spell and you knew it would only end in two ways. Your death or both of your captures.

 

 

“ _You should never go in the pantry, my dear. It’s frightfully boring with hanging herbs, spices I have procured and sweet meats. I have the temperature calculated perfectly for maximum longevity and evolution of flavour. So please, do not go in there or it will be a very expensive venture. Do you promise? Good. That’s my girl.”_


End file.
